Ashes
by OnlySnakesCanLove
Summary: In the near future, two bitter rivals find themselves some of the last remaining members of humanity. They soon discover desperation may drive them to unthinkable things; but desire for love and companionship will lead to far more. Extreme AU, Blayden
1. The End

_Now we've rewritten history_

_The one thing we've found out_

_Sweet taste of vindication_

_It turns to ashes in your mouth_

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><p>There wasn't much to be said about the dawn anymore. Except, perhaps, that the sun was simply coming up again, as it had for millennia. It rose on the days before humanity, on the day they invented fire, on the day of the empires of Egypt and Rome; and on the days of the crusades. It crested the hills on the day Pearl Harbor was attacked, and again when Hitler was laid to rest, and it rose when the fears and terrors of that fateful September morning became realized, and the days after, again and again, despite whatever the human turmoil. The sun knew no date, the sun was there, a forever constant.<p>

It was amazing to just about everyone now that the sun even kept appearing, each day, again and again- a miracle each time. Much like the older civilizations that wondered if it would come back after it descended down the horizon each night, terrified each night that perhaps it wouldn't. The gods could be displeased, unhappy, not quite complacent in the sacrifices offered by mere mankind, and would choose not to bless the world with caring sunlight that fed the plants and lit the world with it's glow of life and sustenance.

Now that the world had returned to that primordial state, there were no longer poems about the sun's beauty. No more lessons about it's scientific nature or praises of it's divine purpose. Religion wasn't gone completely, just singed to a crisp along with the rest of the world. Dying slowly, if it wasn't already nearly instantly annihilated with just about everything else.

Instead, when the sun rose, everyone would stare blankly at it, depressed more than overjoyed, almost saddened over the memory of once was. Those that farmed still rejoiced, as did the business owners, the hunters- but not the thieves and rapists-the bands of roaming derelicts that took an almost glee in the new world- as there was nothing but free reagn for their heinous activities. They would rather the world stayed dark for their nefarious doings to remain under cloak and shadow.

Yet the average survivor, the traveler, the trader, the scavenger…The barfly. They just shrugged their shoulders, knowing it didn't make a damn either way. They were fucked.

That sun crested over a barren landscape, dotted only by the occasional wind-swept plant that sat alone, sometimes half-dead, sometimes daringly full of life. There were shacks, dilapidated and disparaged houses that were either blown down to their basements, or remnants of frames with the occasional blown-back sway that faced backwards from the blast center. The ground was at times dusty, the grass that died no longer holding the soil together. Dust storms weren't uncommon, even if was simply the east coast, far from any desert. Climate, however, didn't mean much anymore.

The sun's rays touched upon the inner recesses of a cave. A rare site for this part of the world, but now that most of the trees had died, the holes in mountainsides became that much easier to see. A ramshackle door was covering the front, made of iron that crossed the front with occasional slats. It was very notibibly a relic from before, perhaps someone's stashing spot for their moon shining or what-have-you. Something like this was too hard to make in times like these. Nearly impossible, as a matter of fact.

It illuminated two forms behind it, both male, one carelessly leaning against each other. At first glance, anyway. In reality, they were very obviously cuddling. The brunette's head was snugly wedged into the chest of the other, slightly bulkier man, who's masculine arm held the other close for good reason. A thick, if dirty, blanket was around them, keeping in all the warmth possible, despite doing their best using just their body heat.

The eyes of the black-haired male fluttered just a little, and groaned as his eyes met the sun's rays. His back was against the cave wall, it's cold surface biting into and making him generally miserable. That was, perhaps, if it wasn't for the extreme comfort that the other male in his arms provided, a reason for living if there ever was one.

Gentle kisses rained down on the longer, leaner male in his arms, who's eyelids squished together and brows furrowed in annoyance. It was too fucking early to get up- once upon a time he was an early bird, but no longer. Circumstances didn't seem to change the other male, however, whom seem nearly overjoyed to get up at the crack of dawn.

It didn't stop him from placing one last kiss on the top of the brunette's head, however. Sitting back, the black-haired male took a deep breath and sighed; looking around him as he yawned, surveying the little hidey-hole they discovered from last night. The fire ring was still smoking a little, the embers just now dying out. The bones from the rabbit they'd ingested were singed to a crisp, hastily thrown in the fire and not outside; as to avoid predators at their doorstep. Or human interest, even.

"Lemme sleep…" Came the Bostonian accent, thick after all these years.

"'Am tah-ed…"

The dark-haired male chuckled, his hand messily grabbing at his hair and giving it a rough run-through.

"I did get 'yah good last night…"

"Mmm-hmmm." Came an annoyed confirmation from the younger male, readjusting in his lover's arms as he pressed further against him, using the fully adult male as a pillow and bed all in one.

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself what had to be about an hour more sleep, before stirring awake once more. Of course, nobody knew the real time anymore. It was best to guess using the sun, and the body's own innate internal clock. It bothered him to sleep too late, though. Sticking around in a temporary hide-out like this worried him, as he never knew just who else could either be tailing them or using this place as well. Looking about, he finally sat more upright, waking the other male by his movements.

"Cartuh." He slurred; "Shit, y'ah can neva'h sit still…"

There was once a time when he would have been called Lieutenant. It really wasn't that long ago, either. Yet it felt like ages, and not a scant two years. Yet that title meant nothing anymore, not even being a cop. It was hard to be a police officer when there was no laws, no jails, no precincts, and especially no federal, unified authority. Now he was just a hopeless survivor, just like all the others. Doing what it took to get by and escape death or dismemberment for another day.

"Norm, you know we gotta get moving.. I'd told y'ah we'd sleep allll fuck'n day when we get to a settlement…Hopefully fuck'n soon."

Blake said this as he stood up, the fairer-skinned individual weekly sliding from his hold and sitting up in a hunched fashion as he yawned, doing his best to wake up. His lover, protector…his _everything _got up, standing as he put a hand into the arch of his back and flexed it, making a very audible 'crack' as he limped over towards the pile of badly-worn backpacks that was their lifeline in every situation.

They had dressed hastily after last night's lovemaking- and that's what it was, as simple fucking had been done away with a year ago. Their movements slower and better paced for each other's total satisfaction- kisses, moans, embraces- absolutely accepting in their bodies and the warmth they shared. Though even to this day, Carter Blake still found himself completely vexed that he ended up with the one man he considered his opposite, his enemy, his antithesis in every sense of the word. He couldn't fucking _stand _the prick.

The end of the world as they knew it sort of changed that, however.

Norman Jayden, whom was once _Agent _Norman Jayden, and perhaps would still be if the FBI central office wasn't a pile of smoldering ruins- still sat, his tattered pants the only barrier between that smooth, firm ass and the cold stone floor, eyes closed as he did his best to fall asleep sitting up.

'_Fuck, Norm…'_

The man was notoriously hard to wake up, and really by now he should be used to it. It really didn't irritate him so much anymore, and in fact he usually saw it more as a cute character trait to the more slender male. Jayden was thinner then him, despite Blake's attempt to fatten him up on a daily basis. He'd go without food, pushing his share towards the younger male and watching him devour it with gusto, only to regurgitate it not long after, to his disappointment. He always had a hard time keeping food down ever since he came across Jayden after what had been routinely called by many as "The End", their second meeting. Their last, he'd imagine; the young man had become a virtual other half, there was no way he'd let him leave his side again.

Ignoring him for now, the former lieutenant briskly looked through Norman's backpack, finding his water jug nearly empty. Seeing as there was near a reliable water source nearby, he found it quite convenient. Nothing was more aggravating then finding a fresh, radiation-free water source when you already had a full jug. Sure, you could always dump it out- but water- clean water, was a hard enough thing to find in the wasteland. Dumping perfectly good water for any reason was paramount to murder.

It was also quite convenient, as they were two males who regularly participated in anal sex- therefore needed to keep themselves relatively clean. They'd bathed last night before the act, and planned to do so again before they went back on the road. Though they wouldn't completely stop their inhibitions if they weren't near a bathing area, it sure made it more attractive. Last night they went for what had to be hours, taking full advantage out of being cleaner then they'd been in weeks.

Nearby was a waterfall, though it wasn't massive or too picturesque, it sure was a sight for their sore eyes. One watched while one bathed, unable to enjoy one another's company while the act ensued, but today Blake was willing to put such thoughts aside- they hadn't seen anybody, raider or scavenger, traveler nor slaver, for days. Even the houses weren't as picked over as he was used to. They'd hit a rare pocket of the world that had yet to be fully ruined since the last bomb fell.

'_Not that __**that **__didn't ruin it…' _He thought with some disdain.

Putting the water jug back, he left the top open as a general reminder to head down to the waterfall after breakfast. They were out of leftovers from last night, but had plenty of stored goodies put away. He went to his backpack, unzipped it hastily as he reached in and fished out some relatively fresh crackers. They didn't taste _too _horrible. Remains of food looted from a purged and gutted grocery store. He reached down further for a can of EZ Cheese, the processed food stuff better then nothing…and it lasted forever.

"Com'on, Norm…" The ex-cop pried, "I got breakfast!"

Norman gave a smirk and did his best to stand up, pain shooting throughout his ass as he sought to move his muscles, tighten certain groups and ligaments that just so happened to pull and tug on his rectum- only to wince and sit back down on the cool floor. Even after being with Carter for a little more then a year now, the man's thick cock still stretched him to his limit, and no matter how slow and careful the pace, how much lube or spit, it didn't stop him from feeling as though a telephone poll was just crammed up his ass.

"Pancakes?"

"No, Norm." His tone sarcastic.

"Eggs, bacon?"

"Sure thing, right here…I got a griddle at the bottom of this motherfuck'n backpack…I'll just plug it right in!"

Norman smiled wide at the irritated voice of his partner.

"Waffles?"

"Norman! It's fuck'n…Just come here, all right? Making me hungry, you goddamn prick…"

Carter's voice trailed off as he walked towards the iron door, peeking out to be sure they were still alone.

"Yeah…Yeah, gimme a sec…"

With a sigh, he once more attempted, and this time succeeded in lifting himself from the floor, steadying himself with his right hand on the cave's floor as his face visibly cringed. Standing up, he half-hobbled, half limped towards the man as he stood there, greedily downing the crackers with a liberal amount of EZ- Cheese on each one.

"Haven' difficulties there, mister FBI?"

"Fuck off."

'_Some things never change.' _Carter smirked.

Even now, they teased one another, even if their titles meant nothing anymore. They had first met back when the world was connected, the air was relatively clean and the water free of deadly radiation- they had met near some train tracks under a rainy sky; clean rain…rain they now wished they could have back. Back then they wore pressed, intact clothing, used fully functioning guns and Jayden had those fancy glasses of his- glasses he had since lost and unable to recover. Something he never thought he'd live without, gone back in the rubble of D.C.

Handing Norman the sleeve of expired, stale crackers and can of EZ Cheese, he walked himself over to their backpacks once again, grunting as he took out his own jug of water and took a swig. Despite coming from the same waterfall, Carter knew there was a good possibility that the water was radiated. He had no way to know for sure, but the fact that it was running and from a farther location then when the bombs dropped, it was better than nothing. There was no getting around not taking in radiation in a world now bathed in it- but they did the best they could by not drinking standing water, limiting the eating of wild food, and taking any and all radon-removing pills they could.

Such pills, Potassium Iodine, were easier to find then one might think. Before the end came, the world was thrown into a flurry of nuclear fears thanks to the previous earthquake in Japan, and the recent very founded fears of Iran's nuclear weapons program becoming more pronounced. All the paranoid fucks of the world had whole basements full as it was, and in the last days before the final amberian dawn the government made the pills available at every pharmacy for free- five per customer, of course. Needless to say, nearly every house had them, as did every pharmacy. This made them available from nearly every town or trading point, even the occasional traveling scavenger looking for a buck or a fuck.

Looking for said pills, he found a box of the government issue type in the pop-out foil papers he lifted out, popping one of the big red and white pills as he drank the water down. Without hesitation, their morning ritual was repeated as always as he handed it to Norman, who took it from the man by instinct and repeated the action as he slugged the water back, taking a large guzzle to satisfy his morning thirst.

"Breakfast of champions." Jayden smiled, looking up towards his partner as they caught eyes and shared a laugh.

"We _are _fuckin' champions, aren't we?" Carter mused, a smile in his eyes as he titled his head and clicked in his mouth.

"…Survived a fuck'n nuke, right? Come on, let's get going…I'm sure the sun's warmed things up by now."

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Easily one of the most random things I've ever done- a Blayden fic that takes place amongst a post-nuclear apocalyptic backdrop? Wut?

In case you're wondering, yes, I am still working on Uploaded. I just had the perfect string of inspirations for this idea and had to start it. In fact, it's making me work on Uploaded even more. Why a post-nuclear apocalypse? A nuclear attack/war has always been a big fear for me. To me, there's nothing more catastrophic and/or horrifying then a nuclear warhead and it's after effects. The fact that it scares me, also fascinates me. I've always been a fan of the movie and game genre, and for some reason, these two would almost seem at home in it, for me. Their tone matches the slightly dystopian atmosphere. I will also add that despite having many similarities to Fallout, this fic is NOT, NOT, NOT, I REPEAT NOT, a Fallout crossover. Despite having many similarities, it has no 50's styling, no mutants, no vaults, ect. What I retained from that idea are things I believe would exist in a post-apocalyptic world, regardless of Fallout.

Yes, this will continue for a few more chapters. It is not, however, going to be overtly detailed or as long as my other stories. I might even update this one more often. Whoa, amazing concept, amirite?


	2. Denouement

**I, as always, apologize for the massive wait. But hey, here it is! This chapter contains SEXUAL SLAVERY, and two men engaging in anal sex. If that's what you came here for then WHOO-HOO. If not, please leave. I would also like to thank Nightlore for betaing this, therefore stopping me from reading it about three more times in my long and unsatisfying editing process. If you love my stuff please take a look at his Blayden fics an REVIEW them for fuck's sake! I can't stress that last part enough.**

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><p><em>Dying swans, twisted wings, beauty not needed here.<em>

_Lost my love, lost my life, in this garden of fear_.  
><em> I have seen many things, in a lifetime alone<em>  
><em> Mother love is no more, bring this savage back home.<em>

_What you see, is not real, those who know will not tell_  
><em> All is lost, sold your souls to this brave new world.<em>

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><p>Survivors of the nuclear war of 2012 all had their stories for how and why they were so fortunate…or more accurately, <em>unfortunate, <em>seeing as they lived to watch the whole world die. More perished than survived, especially on the east coast. Those that did make it often knew many who died, losing a few if not the entirety of friends and family. It had more to do with luck then preparedness, as the attack was sudden and frighteningly massive. Even those with bunkers and shelters were taken unaware, or were lackluster in their efforts.

Blake still wondered how he did it; how he had been so goddamn 'fortunate' at the right turns. He couldn't have been any less prepared for what had turned out to be the end of days, of human civilization as he knew it. There were tensions between the US and the Middle East, as always; that part he remembered.

The older cop didn't find himself too worried. The only parts he was aware of were the bits and pieces he found himself glimpsing when he had the rare thing called free time, whether it was on the news or in the newspaper. He had too much to do, and didn't find himself caring about much more than the crime right in front of his face, the arrogant pieces of shit that were out on the Philadelphian streets making life a living hell for the populace. Streets and people, he realized, that were well and gone – like the radiated dust in the wind.

He remembered the flurry of activity leading up to that day, a day he couldn't even remember in full detail anymore. Perhaps he didn't want to. What day had it been? What month? He wasn't even sure. It was cold and rainy, perhaps early winter. He was told to get into the lower level of the basement until things calmed down, that the old building had an old fallout shelter that was full of junk, but still very much viable. The food may have been taken out years ago, boxes stuffed to the ceiling in some places of what had been interpreted as an unimportant, no longer needed space. After the fifties and then The Cold War; concepts of a nuclear war became the last thing on American's minds as they let the fallout shelter signs on old buildings rot and rust. Now they appeared lost to history, like the ruins of an old Roman temple.

After descending the stairs in a bit of a hurry, behind some other officers and Ash, he couldn't help but be angry that this bullshit was even coming to fruition. Nothing was going to happen! How many times had they been threatened before? How many years had it been since the last fallout shelter was even built? There were safeguards in place, missile defense systems…

Then it _did _happen – he felt himself rocketed forward from the force of a bomb blast he later found out to be directed at the center of Philly. He was sent flying almost directly into the open door of the shelter, to which he grappled on the floor to close the thick door behind him, not even daring to invite anybody else in as they lay prostrate on the floor. Screams of officers frilled the air, gasps, and curses – all while his heart caught in his throat, pulling the door closed and locking it with all his strength, despite the ground shaking beneath his feet.

Blake remembered one thing about nuclear warheads that he gained from television history shows and programs – nuclear fallout. Exposed to the air, radiation would rain down and enter any space it could. If they were exposed, it would be most slow, meandering death of the utmost pain and misery possible; cancer and radiation sickness.

The confines of the police station fallout shelter were horrid, and sometimes the survivor wondered if it was really that bad outside anyway. It was the silence outside the vault that was the most compelling evidence that there indeed, was nothing but ashes and cinder outside. Wouldn't someone have found them by now? Tried to pry them out? Wouldn't there be police and fire sirens, people clawing to get in?

It wasn't until the bare minimum required two week period was over, that the decision was made to open the door. Some had even expired in the shelter from various ailments, but mostly it was the lack of food and poor sanitation from such close quarters that caused the desire to leave. Fallout in general had ceased, but nearly everything would be difficult to touch or use, no food to eat that wasn't stored prior to the bomb drop, no water to drink.

He'd never forget how he shoved open the vault, only to see the hallway they traveled down into to be completely collapsed, as was the whole building. Basically they stepped into the bottom of a pit, above them – the street and under his first witnessed red dawn, the sky littered with orange that was sickly instead of beautiful. The sun raining down with all its ignorance; it would shine no matter the earth's troubles, but instead of being hopeful, it was condescending in its power. It was practically yelling, "I told you so."

The remains of civilization were but skeletons of their former selves. Not just in a poetic sense, but in a literal statement. As all that remained of the once tall and proud Philadelphian skyline were the steel girders and frames of buildings, all but the shortest surviving. Anything tall enough to be caught in the blast was knocked asunder. The red-hot heat burning bright enough to envelop the entire city in flames; the smell of putrid, burning metal and flesh both staining his nose and mouth.

For a while, his partner Ash, survived. He was always more shaken then himself, having had a daughter with his ex-wife, which were almost assuredly killed in the blast. They spent some time looking for her, but the place where his house stood was no more, just rubble and dust. Until he died, he continued to hold out hope that she somehow survived, but the searching ended on Carter's part when Ash died of due to complications of previous health disorders, though the man also suspected the radiation after-effects didn't help.

He buried his partner amongst the least horrific ruins of downtown Philly, in someone's backyard, at least at one time. There was a tree that, although dead, still seemed at least together for the most part. Though he and the other man were by no means religious, he put a cross to signify his grave, taking a few moments to mourn for someone he knew for the better part of twenty years – and for the first time since the bomb struck; he cried, though not nearly as much as he knew he probably should have.

Blake found himself horribly lonely after his friend departed him, and found himself traveling from the area. There was no real reason to stay. Perry was also dead, as was most of his police force. His workplace and home now in ruins. So, he left, towards places not touched as horribly by the bomb as the East coast, traveling farther towards Pittsburgh and Cleveland; though the man wasn't sure exactly where he was entirely, just in that general area.

There were people picking up rubble, building civilization to the best of their ability. The seedy part of society reared its head quickly, and it was hard not to be robbed or generally assaulted in this new world, not that it wasn't impossible before either.

It also meant the rise of an old practice, one thought to be left in the history books. It was slavery, but its form was essentially driven by a sexual nature, as there were no more mansions and high society, no fields to be tended. It made Carter sick the first time he witnessed a slave auction on the side of the road. Nearly all woman, unless they just so happened to be too old to be targets, or lucky enough to resist capture, found themselves once more property. Especially girls as young as pre-teens, something that made his stomach churn at the thought.

Even young men and boys were the target of even straight men. The young in general found themselves often the targets of the "operators", ripped from their beds and sold into slavery. Virgins, especially, fetched the highest price. A whole generation was practically in the hands of the old. Brute force and dictation ruling the world like in times of the past. Money mattered again, but not in a way anyone had hoped.

A whole four months passed when he found himself at a rather elaborate slave auction. He, of course, wasn't there planning to buy anything. It was occurring at a large indoor facility, barely tainted by the bomb. There were traders and prostitution, and like all men in the end-world, he engaged in it on occasion. Avoiding the males at all costs, he found himself in a virtual sea of woman of all races and ages- though he, himself was only interested in the girls of at least eighteen or so. He hadn't been thoroughly tainted in that way, at least not yet.

The event was horrid of course, yet by that fact alone was he intrigued; his curiosity luring him amongst the rather normal-and-seedy looking populace alike. The women were first, yet surprisingly enough, most of the population was there for the "grand event", which were young men and boys. The apocalypse had an odd effect on homosexuality; some areas had developed a near fanatical Christian following, a sort of Marshall Law where they would be killed upon suspicion. However, in the wastelands, anything went. Nobody particularly cared who you fucked; so long as you had the goods to trade. Some so called-heterosexual males took to men, as it was easier to have someone with you who didn't carry the burden of pregnancy and could pull his weight around.

Although filled with disgust, he found himself absolutely drawn towards this auction. It was the same reason he was drawn to homicide work, he developed desensitization quickly to the obscene. He felt compelled to watch the stage as they were paraded out with their hands bound behind their back, their "assets" out for all to see, looks of shame and despair plastered across their faces.

Then came the virgins, whom had everything quite covered, as the whole concept behind buying a virgin was to have them as pure as possible, though from what he heard, the actual process for determining if these men were virgins was impure enough.

Then came a moment Blake still couldn't believe; they brought a young man onto the stage. His stats were announced, young white male, thirty-seven, brunette, blue eyes, anal virgin. He stumbled onto the stage, knees weak as he shook from head to toe. He looked over the audience as his eyes squinted nearly shut from the bright light shining in from the audience. Though all these may have begun jogging his memory, the scar on his left cheek sealed it. It was Norman fucking Jayden from the Origami case over a year ago, before the world bathed itself in radioactive flame; a blast from the past, alright.

After the shock, he found himself woefully sorry for the man; something he never would have thought would be possible. After the case, he was in deep contempt for Jayden when he attempted to get him fired. Luckily enough, the charges were dropped due to lack of evidence. His feelings for the man during the case's proceedings didn't help, his arrogance and condescending attitude stayed with him until the day he saw him marched out into the slavery auction, ready to be plowed for the first time by the man who bid the highest, really, he should have been loving every minute of it…

Except he wasn't, instead, he found himself gripped with a sudden panic. He looked around, getting a good look at the potential buyers. Large, burly and dirty men, some smiling and nodding, hooting and hollering names at the man as he blushed furiously, looking for a way off the stage, but was held in place by two far stronger men. Some made lewd comments and elbowed their friends, saying he was one of the best yet. His stomach lurched at some of their suggestions for their first night together; his mind going into overdrive as he tried to wrap his mind around the ideas they were coming up with.

Blake found himself obligated to stop this; and he had to ask himself _why_. Of course he had cared about the guy's general well-being during the case itself, he wasn't a fucking monster. Still, they didn't end their partner relationship on a high note, with anger festering over the miles the whole time. The guy getting famous off of the case he'd been working for two years didn't help things.

Then bidding started; he was going to go for a high price, as it started already at about a thousand. He looked about frantically; half-hoping some angel would come down and stop the mess for him, without exposing himself to the agent or ruining his pride, or even depleting his last dollar. Except, it started to go up fast, and the last throes of the auction were coming down to the wire, the fast-paced auctioneer calling a few times at the ten-thousand dollar last bid – and he raised his hand.

It was Jayden's lucky day if there ever was one. He had just got back from a rather lucrative scavenging mission, and in fact, was able to loot actual medicine from a pharmacy warehouse that had been nearly untouched. He had sold the hub a good amount of narcotics like Oxycontin as well as antibiotics and even AIDS drugs. It was also pure luck on Jayden's part that he went un-looted on his way back. Either way, he had planned to give himself a good night out, an expensive escort and room for the evening as well as a good, radiation-free meal.

Jayden fucking owed him but still…he raised his hand, already he would be paying out most of his stack of cash. The bidding continued, and he found himself having to use his voice to get out over the crowd, and on cue the man on the stage seemed to perk up, as if remembering something from what felt like an age ago. If Blake wasn't so sure it was him, he'd never have gone as high as he did, but luckily it stopped before his money ran out, a fact he was still grateful for to this day.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the bidding ended, several people eyeing him for his attempt to take the man they wanted away. Fuck 'em. Jayden was his, but not for what he was intended for. His plan was to send him on his way, no questions asked, the faster he could get out of his hair, the better. Jayden had better not even _try_ to get his ass captured by the operators again; he couldn't be there for him beyond today.

The wait until the entire auction to be over wasn't long, but still painful to endure. He reported to the office afterwards with intent to pay for his 'property', thinking it would be a simple money exchange. Instead, he got a long contract that he quickly signed without reading and several other uncomfortable procedures. He filled out a form that asked his name and other personal information. A picture was taken, rather like for a driver's license. His prints were catalogued, as well as a cheek swab for DNA. All in all, he felt the heat of a very controlled, dominating business. Cold, watchful eyes of men with buck knives strapped to their waists keeping an eye on his every move.

He was told to wait for about an hour before he could 'continue with his evening'. This felt strange; what were they doing to Norman, exactly? What if it as just a formality and he was, in fact, worrying over nothing? Instead he grabbed a bite to eat and returned forty-five minutes later as he entered the lobby the same time as someone else, approaching from the rooms as he was still carrying what appeared to be a tattoo needle and motor bundled together in his arms. With a crooked smile he informed Carter that 'the bitch was done' and he could now claim his property.

Carter felt sick – something was obviously amiss, especially after what just happened. What did he mean? Was Norman hurt? He walked quickly to the assigned room with a heavy heart and a squeamish stomach. Christ, he couldn't believe this shit. If Norman was lucky, he might avoid an ass beating for blowing his whole savings.

There were keys in his hand he'd never thought he'd be holding, to a door that probably witnessed thousands upon thousands of horrible sex acts upon non-willing participants. Of course, the complimentary rooms were some of the best ones could get; operators in general cared a great deal about quality control. After all, in a world where commercials didn't exist, word of mouth was everything for advertisement. He supposed he'd at least get a nice room for the night and free alcohol out of it.

When he opened the door, his expectations were indeed met as the room was very classy, a bottle of chilled wine in a pail on the nightstand, glasses and lit candles, a note sitting next to it that no doubt was a receipt and list of conditions; his inability to be returned or resold, his virgin status now obsolete and considered 'dirty' merchandise. Basic things he had expected and were of no real surprise. Yet he would find later, it had mostly thanked him, as again…they enjoyed repeat business.

It was the centerpiece of the room, however – Jayden sitting on the bed, arms bound behind his back – that surprisingly enough had enthralled him the most. He had been stripped; manhood between his closed legs as he shook uncontrollably, body moving in tremors as his head looked down towards the ground in shame. A jerk occurred in Blake's crotch, and he found himself disgusted yet somehow aroused at the idea that he now, technically _owned _Norman Jayden, to do with what he pleased.

He licked his rough lips and took a deep breath, closing the door behind him. Norman let out a cry at the sound, and Carter had to do his best to try and not run from the room right then; the sound choked with misery and pain. Instead, he took a few steps forward, watching as the younger man still held his head down.

"I…I…I'm y'ahs, sir." Christ, even now, that Boston accent was as strong as ever. "They…taught me eh'veryth'en I need t'uh know…T'ah please you…"

Another wave coursed through his lower body, even running along his spine, and he fought it down as a sick, gross and utterly disgusting feeling writhed in his gut. Jesus Christ, he couldn't stand watching this. He couldn't help but imagine himself in this situation, and thinking he would rather be killed. Carter was himself; just as much of a virgin as Norman was in this particular regard. He wondered at times if someone would be out there, gunning for _him. _It was a terrifying thought.

About to open his mouth, he stopped as the words didn't quite make their way out, partially because he wasn't sure what to say, the other being afraid to identify himself. Of course, it was delaying the inevitable, but it didn't help the matters at all.

The former police lieutenant found himself walking forwards to stand in front of the fallen-from-grace FBI agent, sitting on a bed that, for the night, belonged to him. Not that it mattered; as the man himself belonged to him as well. Naked, with his cock practically squashed between his legs as he knelt on the sheets. His hands bound behind his back like many a prisoner he'd taken into custody…and those eyes, they wouldn't even look up, couldn't out of humiliation, out of _terror_ at being penetrated by his new owner, if not outright killed. There was no law anymore, nothing stopping people from buying a slave only to fuck and kill them, leaving nothing but a nasty mess to be cleaned up in the morning by the crew.

"Oh Gah'd…" He sniffled, and Carter could feel the own tears welling up in his eyes, "I'm sahry- please don't…Please, Gah'd…"

"Norman?"

A sharp breath, Norman breathed in so fast he choked on it, hyperventilating shortly afterward. Carter wasted little time, flurry in his movements, as he searched the drawers nearby for something sharp. He found a tacky and dull hook device from the nightstand, knowing its purpose was for this and this alone, meant this way so the slaves couldn't rebel and kill him with it. Sticking it under the cloth, he sawed it apart in a few seconds. Yet Norman's hands shook as they traveled to his crotch, hiding himself as best he could.

Sitting back in front of him, the cop noticed he still hadn't made much progress.

"Norman…Look at me."

His throat cracked; the despair evident in his own voice, yet he knew that he had to remain strong. The blind couldn't lead the blind, could they?

Still, Norman refused, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Goddamn it, _Norman!"_

Though accentuated, his tone was actually softer. He got down on his knees, keeping his eyes away from the very male organ and looked up as he attempted to see the man more on his level. His eyelids were pressed sharply together, not wanting to see the man who had just purchased him; keeping him as his own.

"Open your eyes, Norm…C'mon…"

Carter's eyes shifted back and forth as he switched from his face, to the room- all nervous actions. Despite looking the man right in the face, he still didn't want to make eye contact. It would have been too intimate…too caring_, personal._ Standing up again, his body creaking from his tired travels, he finally reached forward and cradled Norman's face in his right hand, forcing his gaze, through some tension, to angle towards his face.

"Fuck'n asshole…" He murmured out of frustration, only to feel the young man hyperventilate and swallow harshly; at once the recognition was realized fully, and he slowly opened his eyes.

"C…Cartuh?"

His gaze flew up as the connection was finally made, locking eyes with the young man once and for all.

"Yeah, Norm…it's me."

There was no delay as he felt the sudden warmth of skin to skin contact envelop him, tensions raised in alarm as he sat, shocked. Norman had embraced him, crying head on his shoulder. It was an incredibly unique and unknown sensation to the older man, and although he felt himself wholly uncomfortable, he couldn't help but notice the feel of a man's warm skin wasn't very different from that of a woman's, and that it had been unbelievably long since he had felt a woman embrace him like this, seeking comfort in the extent of his masculinity.

Yet it was the sensation of the man's breath on his neck, saliva and tears wet on his flesh, which was the most unsettling. He winced and tried to escape the grasp, luckily for Norman, this made him reciprocate without pulling away, and put his chin on the other man's shoulder as he grabbed him with a little less force.

"You can't be real, Cartuh…it can't be you…"

"_Since when the hell did he give a shit about __**me**__?__"_The former lieutenant wondered. _"__This wasn't how I thought this was going to play out, for fuck's sake! That's what I get for trying to play the hero.__"_

"Shhhh, kid! Hey…" Blake tapped his shoulder, to which he felt the young man jump at his touch.

Instead of forcing him away, Carter stroked his back, like soothing a child that had just skinned his knee. A part of him felt fatherly in that sense, the other found himself confused at his own brewing thoughts. He was curious as to what all this excitement was about sleeping with another man; to make even straight men pay high dollar for one to keep forever.

"You…you _bought_ me?"

Carter swallowed, eyes shifting back in forth. For some reason, it now had a far dirtier, more sinister context.

"Yeah but-"

"So y'ah want to…y'ah wanted to…"

"No!"

Carter jumped up and away from the man like he was on fire. The words left his mouth a little too quickly, a little too defensively. Norman's eyes shot open as he leaned back, looking up through the man with excited, cautious eyes.

"No, Norm! I just…"

He had wanted to say that he only bought Norman because he felt sorry for him, that he couldn't stand to see him go to some big, sweaty gross near-mutant and become his eternal ass slave for the rest of his most likely short life. Yet that would imply that he had cared about him, and that was something he wasn't willing to admit.

"…I had to do _something, _alright? I couldn't stand there while you were up there… half-naked, ready to be bought like a fuck'n piece of meat. It's fuck'n wrong…" He spat out, a little too quick and desperate for his liking.

Norman sat for a moment, looking hopelessly confused.

"I don't rememb'uh you always doin' the right thing…"

"Oh _fuck _you!" He swore as he turned and put his hands on his hips. Now was _not _the right fucking time to talk about the Origami case.

Norman, unfazed, changed the subject.

"Then what were y'ah doin' at the auction?"

'_Good question.'_

He shouldn't have been there, it was lewd, lascivious practice that disgusted him but fuck, deep down… he knew he had to see it, just once. The most horrible practices hold such steadfast places in men's hearts.

"I was at the right place at the right time..." He answered, with some difficulty.

"I bought you to set you _free, _Jayden…"

He was surprised to see Norman _smile_, actually fucking _smile _and it appeared so sudden and delirious that Carter actually found himself rather terrified.

"Cartah, I can't be free… Naht evah again. Don't y'ah know how this works?"

He wanted to say _'no', _because it was true. Carter had never done this before, of course, and was only relying on stories told in bars or communal fires held in the wastes. Instead he just stared; his dark-blue eyes meeting steely gray ones, whom were full of sadness, yet an odd solidarity. Norman turned as he kept sitting still, and twisted so that a small portion of his left shoulder was visible. On it, underneath the sore, red and irritated flesh was a tattoo; a barcode with CARTER BLAKE and a series of numbers below it. It had been etched, undeniably, into his skin forever.

'_He really is mine… Jesus Christ. I didn't sign up for this!'_

"You haft'uh fuck me, Cartuh or they'll kill me…"

_What?!_

"What!?"

Carter reacted as though he was literally punched in the gut, taken aback; his mouth refusing to work as he couldn't say anything in particular, besides _"What?" _again, about twice more. He turned around, facing the wall as he placed his hand over his mouth and stood, vision spotting as his heart accelerated.

Norman was saying something, but it just came off as irritating, so he blocked it out as the man closed his eyes, only catching the tail-end.

"…need tah make sure y'ah don't sell me secondhand…they don't want competition…"

"How do they know?" He asked, swallowing and turning around to face him, "How would they know…if you're a virgin after tonight?"

He was silent for a second, and the older male could tell he was brewing on how to say something he wasn't quite sure he knew how to say or just didn't want to.

"They uh…In th'ah mornin', they'll check me…"

"But you're a fucking _guy, _Norman! You don't have a hymen or some shit-"

"They stick their goddamn fingers up my ass, Cartuh!" he exploded, "They'll check tah see if I'm looser than before. If they're naht convinced…they'll look you right in thuh eye, and ask…'Did you fuck him?' And they'll know…They'll know if yah lyin'. It's happened before. I had friends in there, Cartuh…people I cared about and they just…"

Carter wasn't done trying, though.

"What about women? I see it all the time…they buy men-"

"…That's why they don't allow them tah buy virgins."

'_Fuck.' _He realized. _'He's fuck'n right…when the virgins come on…the woman leave.'_

He stood for a moment, absolutely shell-shocked with this new information. There had to be a way around this…he was _not _going to…_fuck _Norman! It was bad enough he was a man, but _Norman? _Good Christ, that was out of the question.

"Bullshit, there's gotta be a way around this. Let me go out, I'll talk to them-"

"No…"

Norman's tone may have been subtle, almost inaudible, but it was enough to make the man stop talking. Stop scheming…he sounded terrified, despondent… As much as Carter hated to admit it, he was an outsider looking into this fucked-up world; right now, he was the one that needed to listen.

"We could…Try something else? Is there something here that could…be used…?"

Looking up, the younger man got the gist of what he was referring to and shook his head.

"They'll check fah semen, too."

'_Oh, GOD.'_

Blake knew that he could try every possible configuration – he could stuff Norman with everything in the room, even use his ejaculate but they would _know_. These sick fuckers would know if it wasn't real, they just _would. _No doubt they've seen every trick in the book. Not to mention the man sitting on the bed seemed absolutely positive that there was no way out. He wasn't even putting up any of his own ideas, knew the situation had only one outcome.

"Listen, Cartuh…I don't mind, okay? I want yah to… If yah don't…we're both in trouble. I'll just… I'll just…look away…"

The bottom felt as though it literally fell from Carter's stomach. He couldn't believe it; he'd actually have to go through with this – sleep with the man he was planning on setting free… All those sick fucks in the audience he distanced himself from, he was oneof _them._

"Norman…I don't know if I can do that."

He looked the younger man in the face, trying his best to convey his trepidation. He couldn't bring himself to fuck the man who, about six months and a year ago, had punched him in the face protecting what he considered a possible child killer. It didn't even matter if he had been right all along, in fact that only made it worse. Even though Jayden had been right, he was a smug little prick as far as he was concerned and if he had been a smug little prick now, he just might have considered it.

Except he wasn't; he was crying, trembling, eyes wide as his hands shook from their hold on his own thighs. His legs together as it hid his masculinity, one of, but not the sole reason; Carter didn't even consider having sex with him.

"Cartuh…"

Norman's pathetic, sad tone ended with a tearful note, and the older man couldn't help but find himself sullied, tired of the fight, tired of this bullshit game. Did he really hate this man enough to not enjoy his body…enjoy one _another's _bodies for the night? Was it really that…bad?

"If we don't do this-"

"We'll be killed for violating the contract… They don't need me out there, spreading the bad news. You'll be useless to them…"

A nod from the younger man, a stunned silence – that deciding moment when everything you thought was right and wrong didn't matter. It's just who's in control, and what to do to please them. It was fantastically overwhelming in making even the strongest man feel like the most powerless being on Earth.

"Okay…" His dark, sardonic voice rang, eerily. His spirit euthanized.

"Let's do it, let's fuck…"

Blake let the hand that had been scratching the back of his head drop. With it, every piece of him from the old world was let go. Norman let out a breath of relief, and gingerly spread his legs, shaking in fear the whole way. Blake hurried, grabbing both thighs and closing them, feeling a ripple in his stomach at the idea of doing it _that_ soon.

"Goddamn it, Jayden! Not so fast!"

With a trembling lip, Norman looked down, a wild blush consuming his face at the accusation.

"Soh- sah'rry…"

The former lieutenant's head dropped, sighing as he stood back up; his body beginning to prime itself for sex as he felt his heart rate increasing.

"Don't be…"

He took a seat on the bed, and nearly instantly, as he let the reigns from his insecurities fall away, he felt his arousal peak. Reaching over, he grabbed the champagne, the ice wetting the sheets as he winced at the mess he made.

"_Then I'm really going to be pissed when we make a mess later…__"_

His face made a very prominent expression of disdain, and Norman's face fell as he looked down towards his knees. Carter then took the bottle in one hand, flicking the younger man across his bicep with another to garner his attention.

"Here, let's get fucked up…I think we can both agree on that."

They commenced to drinking, and there were no apologies, no words, not even glances. They looked down, swirled the champagne in their glasses, making odd faces at the bitter taste of the alcohol, yet continuing to drink the substance as their inhibitions faded, minds melted, bodies warmed, vision blurred, and desires escalated.

After the third drink, they managed to look at one another in the eye, and then quickly glanced away. Both of their faces were beet red; not just from the alcohol, but the simple thought that they were going to be engaging in sexual intercourse, forced sexual intercourse, at that.

"I just came because I was curious..." He finally said, breaking the extremely awkward silence.

"I just wanted you to know that… I wasn't there for the auction. I came to get a good fuck with a good whore, not to buy a slave…especially not a man. I mean, I'm not… I never was..."

The former cop didn't know why he felt the need to tell this to his new 'property', perhaps because he felt guilty and ashamed enough as it was to be at that auction, seen among that seedy crowd. Certainly, he had never anticipated this course of action to occur. He was planning on kicking Norman out into the trading hub, maybe to be gangbanged or mugged or both for all he cared. It's not like he could follow Norman for the rest of his life – he'd done more than enough for fuck's sake!

Except now he was trapped; caught in this pit of sex and death. It wasn't exactly how he had planned things to happen. He had hoped to be shacking up with a hot girl and a few cases of beer or hard liquor and pass the whole weekend away. Funny how things ended up, didn't it? But he wasn't laughing.

"It doesn't even mattah, Cartuh-" He had tried to tell him all was forgiven; but the older man wouldn't have it.

"It does fucking matter, _Norman." _Came the condescending tone of his from what felt like a million years ago.

"I wasn't there to fucking buy anybody! I 'm not like all those gross fucks- I just…couldn't stand you being bought by one of those assholes! Not someone I know…I had to do something, _got it_?"

Silence again, Norman nodded. Carter wasn't sure if he just really believed him, or just wanted to keep the peace. His expression was sullen.

"Thanks…"

Carter didn't know why he felt that apology didn't really sink in, but it didn't. Perhaps it was that it didn't matter anymore. He hadn't saved Jayden from anything. He was a sick man, had done sick things in this new world…and now? Now he was going to fuck him, giving no comfort to himself that it was technically with permission. Everything was wrong about this.

"I'm sorry…"

Nodding, he felt his heart sink at the apology. It wasn't his fault he was in bounds, that he bought him…Yet still; it felt good to hear it. To hear that Norman was actually sorry for what he was asking him to do, even if it did benefit Carter himself more than anybody. It was concern for the man's welfare that caused him to be here as it was.

Silence, another drink each between the two of them, vision blurring and mind swimming as they effectively drained the bottle. Carter's head swam as he leaned back on his elbows, heart hammering at the tension that brewed at the upcoming sexual practice he was about to engage in. He was nervous; he'd never had sex with a man before…and quite frankly, he was concerned he wouldn't be any good at it. What if they…made a mess? The so called 'dirty' practice had turned him off at first, but being in the bed with the man, smelling his body next to him, nearly pining for him and him alone; it was a call to duty he knew he had to fulfill. It was an immensely satisfying feeling.

It surprised him how quick and effortless he started, rolling over practically onto a slightly surprised Norman Jayden. He heard him release a cry of slight pain and confusion at having his mass sink into his body, but it was quickly replaced as Carter himself angled his body to fit comfortably on top of his. He found those soft, pink lips and nuzzled them with his, hearing Norman gasp lowly, sending a rush of heat to his groin. Immediately, his plush lips met his, a gentle, soft peck; then a unanimous opening of the mouths as they tasted one another for the first time.

Wet with alcohol, Norman's lips still had an odd, burning heat and a texture of dry, abused surface. How many nights did he go without water? How many times was he taught how to suck a cock? How many did he try it out on? Or, was his mouth a virgin in that way as well?

He didn't kiss deep, exploring his neglected face as he kissed gingerly at first, then explored carefully as his tongue poked between his lips and tried to snake inside. He didn't get very far – rebutted by closing lips and a head turned shakily to the side.

The man's blush deepened as they embraced on the bed, Carter's hand reaching behind his head as Norman's followed suite, other arm cupping one of the former cop's buttocks as his crotch felt wonderfully set ablaze. He didn't want this at first, either, but it didn't take much to change his mind. His body responded quickly, his aging but taught muscles throbbing from overuse and arousal combined.

Carter clutched at the other male's pectorals, as if expecting breasts to be there. Although the result wasn't quite what he had hoped for, to his partial glee it wasn't much difference then perhaps fondling the chest of a rather flat-chested woman, his thumb brushing against the nipple. He instead felt Norman jerk to his touch, legs closing up; only to become panicked when Blake was there to keep them from doing so.

Norman scrambled, starting to fight against what he so willfully wanted, and for a second, so did Carter. He pushed down on him and grabbed his arms, holding him down to cease the fighting. Feeling a spur of excitement, he instead felt himself driven to bed the man beneath him, his crotch growing and pushing on his clothing to unimaginable levels. This reminded him, in irritation, that he was still fully clothed against the younger man's tight, virgin body.

He could hear the former profiler pant below him. Quite like a predatory beast, he felt excited by the panic and arousal he had caused. Exhaling loudly, a bead a sweat dripped from his forehead, watching it fall onto Norman's chest. He focused on putting all the fears and homophobia into that breath and dove in as he kissed the man again – putting his hungry, succulent, yet rough and warm lips on top of his; devouring him, consuming him as he heard him cry in muffled protest, yet it faded, replaced with a hopeless whine. Blake encircled him with his arms and legs, Jayden giving a surprised, almost sad whine in response, having just been pinned down completely into place. Helpless, like a butterfly staked to the wall for observance.

Their erections were pushed together once more, feeling Norman pull away in fear of the other man's exuberance. Carter took this as nearly an offense, and took his hands off his arms to instead grab the younger man's buttocks firmly, one hand on each cheek as he _squeezed _and drove their pelvises together. The younger man squirmed and made a strange noise similar to a gasp and a cry of protest, silenced; it seemed, by himself more than anyone.

Carter exhaled a "Fuck…" as he backed off, sitting up and letting their erections ground against one another. He panted as he rested on his palms, mouth slack-jawed as his eyes practically clouded over in consumed lust. He knew deep down in a level of subconscious that he didn't know he had…that he _wanted_ to overwhelm the smaller, weaker male and claim him from top to bottom, inside and out, body and soul…

Perhaps it was a highly dominant male's desire to control and possess a possible rival, to turn him from a possible threat to other females into a partner by bonding with him sexually; quite like other animals. Or it could have been a sort of obsession turning into the desire to completely own the younger male. Maybe it was, simply, an attraction for his boyish, hurt nature… Or maybe these entire; rolled into one, tinged slightly by the need to be held by someone he knew, pleasured, cared for. Not just by some random whore, but someone who knew his name, his face…someone he'd shared a car with back in rainy, pre-apocalyptic Philadelphia.

Watching the pale-skinned man beneath him, he could see the whip-cuts that amplified his weak physique, lining his chest and had healed over a few months ago, it seems. He didn't see any new ones; at least on this side. It almost broke him inside to think that Norman's rebellious spirit had been crushed so easily. He was weaker than before; less muscle tone, less filled out. Sun spots dappled along his flesh here and there, signs of previous sun burns under the hot sun without any sunscreen on his supple skin. He'd seen the line of shackled slaves being driven across the wastes. Imagining Norman among them now made his heart clench in sorrow rather than anger.

Norman looked at him with a blush brightening his face, if Carter were to caress it he knew he'd be burning to the touch. Instead, Norman had looked away, but Carter had already seen the fear in those eyes. The kid was erect, sure, but still a bit soft. He didn't want to do this… Or at least, was unsure about it.

"You sure about this, Norm?"

He had to ask. If not, to this day he'd be wondering if, indeed, the younger man regretted submitting himself to his new supposed 'owner'. The old cop didn't want to regret forcing himself on another, even if the circumstances forced his hand, among other things. He had to be sure, _absolutely_ sure.

There was a moment where the former agent didn't immediately respond, and Carter could feel his stomach drop and heart hammer in that second that lingered between him. The older male could read the expression of regret, of perhaps pondering the decision and leaning towards another option.

Carter could have sworn he would have said "On second thought," or simply "No." to which he now had to admit would have crushed him. Even masturbating afterwards wouldn't have soothed the rejection he would have felt.

"Yeah, I…I'm sure."

His voice croaked; uttered from a throat that was most likely damaged from a malnourished, dehydrated slave life. He almost felt relief at the thought that soon enough, that would all be coming to an end. _"I want to feed him till he bursts… Drown him with the purest water I can get…"_

Norman's eyes were downcast; his face pointed down towards the bed as his cheeks flushed, sweat beading on his still-handsome, youthful brow. Carter felt his arousal peak at this submissive display, reaching down to undo his pants, sliding off easily in their damaged state. His breathing increased, ripping them down and exposing his genitals to the other fully grown man. Norman wasn't looking, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Carter leaned forward with a slight rush to his actions then cupped the former agent's face. He could feel the stubble line his jaw, the masculinity present but just feminine enough to retain that pure and utter submissive state. Apparently, they at least allowed their slaves to shave. This was something he sensed already, seeing as the man before him had little in the way of pubic hair. That was all he cared to glimpse, at least for now.

He didn't wait for him to look up, but instead leaned in for another kiss as he touched his lips to his with a slight peck, feeling the warmth and plumpness of the vestigial organs as they bounced off his. There was a bit of a reaction on the kid's part, his eyebrows knotted and he appeared to stiffen. He was sure that the younger man wasn't trying to focus on the fact that he was about to be fucked by the older homicide lieutenant that was ready to shoot him all but a little less than two years earlier.

Another kiss, in which this time he gingerly sucked on his lower lip, and could nearly revel in the way Norman shook and squirmed. Blake's arms wrapped around his back, holding his malnourished, virgin body closer to his own as he enveloped him with his own wasteland-savvy form. Their members touched, hot, hard, and already dripping pre-cum from the head. At once he felt Norman surrender fully, body going limp in his arms.

This time, Norman kissed him, carefully, testing his boundaries with the more dominant male above him. Carter's arms encircled around his back and pulled him close, laying nearly side-by-side as they became enveloped with one another. His tongue slipped past those tender lips and between his teeth once again, but this time it was in mutual respect, not lust. Still, he had been astounded he had not been bitten or otherwise harassed. He tasted differently than all the woman he'd been with, though the former cop had a feeling it wasn't just because of the pricey alcohol they had just consumed.

With reluctance, Blake's hand began to grope the other male's arousal. He closed his eyes and took a heavy few breaths, imagining himself stroking his own hard, wet and straining cock. Except it didn't feel like his own; it was thinner, longer, missing the veins that accentuated his piece. Yet the different texture became fascinating to him, oddly enough. Instead of being put off, he huffed with delight as he began to pump harder, hands coming over the head as it slicked the pre-cum back and covered it from the tip to the base, where there came a slight squeeze.

In his hand, Norman's length easily had increased and stiffened, the liquid now beginning to stream out- much like saliva increasing when observing a delicious meal, or inhaling a wonderful smell…there was no stopping it. With the arching of his back, Carter separated for the whole of a second before meeting back to kiss him, where their eyes met. Dark blue collided with a lighter, greyish hue.

Carter inhaled as he nearly choked on his own spit, grinding his hip down as he felt a surge of primordial masculinity fuel his need. To dominate a more submissive male, turn him into his affectionate companion as he used sex as a bonding tool of sorts, relying on the brain's chemicals to do the job. Not that he knew this, per say, just what had to be done, that he craved the man underneath him, and for some reason…it felt right.

He then felt Norman's hand on his cock, straining between the two of them and hard as a fucking rock. It was engorged enough to grab it as it was not only pressed between them so closely, but slick with pre-cum and just about as slippery as a fish. He could feel the younger man's hesitation, perhaps not quite realizing he this dripping wet already, despite the slickness he must have felt against him. He supposed it wasn't the expectation that the aggressive, manly Carter Blake would be quite so horny for another man's body.

"Oh Gah'd… Blake-" He huffed, the man named breathing hotly above him. The humidity warm on his face.

"You're so- aw…It's wet-"

"That's for you, Norm."

The older cop swore he could feel Norman recoil in fear, his own organ was an average length for sure, but it was of an abnormal thickness, coated with veins and an enormous head. Norman was going to feel this in the morning for sure.

There was little hesitation from then on; everything seemed to flow with the oddest sort of fluid nature, as if they'd done this a million times. He proceeded to stroke the younger man, pumping slowly, extending the head as if it was his own. Really he'd never realized how absolutely liberating it was to touch another man's cock; feel another surface that was both alien yet so completely familiar.

A tube of lube stood by its flat cap on the night stand, obviously displaying its purpose the minute he had walked in. Never did he think he would ever need it. All the hookers he'd had have been so loose he didn't even need the shit, some spit with perhaps a pre-lubed condom and he was ready to go. That wasn't going to be the case this time, which was obvious enough. Anal sex, especially with a virgin…was going to be the tightest sex he could ever imagine.

Carter placed hands on Norman's knees and forced his legs apart. There was some hindrance on the younger man's side, pushing his legs back together… Though the older man knew from the closed eyes and averted face that was panting and red with shame that Norm was only doing this because he was terrified. They both consented to this. It was necessary; though at that point, the older male wondered if he could stop if he wanted to.

He'd had anal sex before. Knew what to do; he didn't think it would be much different than the female's Carter had experienced before. That meant he would need obscene amounts of lube…and a bit of stretching on Norman's part. He steeled himself, at this point knowing full well that he'd be taking the plunge into another man's orifice. Something he never even entertained before. Sure, sometimes he'd wonder what it would be like to have sex with a man, or fantasize about making a younger man his practical bitch. Somehow, though, the gritty reality of the situation never came to mind.

With a new, hurried purpose, he popped the top off the brand-new bottle of lube. It itself was excited as he was – the lube itself swelling from the opening before the top was all the way off, landing on his fingers as he turned them over and bathed them in it. The cool sensation caused his erection to practically sting with escalating pressure, the thought of the ever-pressing event looming closer.

Despite the concept of what he was about to do – putting fingers in another man's ass – he couldn't help but see it in an entirely different light. Right now, the man's anus was about as sexual as a woman's stretched and wet opening; just as inviting. Norman trembled as he looked away, but did indeed jolt off the bed a bit as his fingers touched his puckered opening. He heard pleads in the former agent's voice, but in the end he could tell they were muffled by his own will. He knew it had to be like this.

He circled the opening as he lay the cool, chilly gel on his rectum, then experimented as he tried to push in, met in turn with severe resistance. For a moment he realized that Norman was already so much tighter than all the woman he'd had anal sex with. It truly was almost a difference experience entirely. Carefully, he pushed in, feeling him clench and shake heavily as he tried to push him out. Instead he moaned in defeat as Carter used all his might to push it all the way in, and the former cop relished the surprised, almost delighted upturn his moan had as he pulled out a little, then in once more; creating a slippery surface that eased his finger's penetration.

Another finger was slipped in, his legs no longer needed force to stay open, and lay slack on either side, in fact they had widened. He pushed in, pulled them out; rubbing the area and spreading his fingers apart to spread the lube inside the younger, more fragile man so that the muscles would be more prepped for his much larger organ.

Carter stole a look up towards the man he was pleasuring, witnessing Norman's face turned to the left, eyes closed but mouth open in pained breaths. Obviously, this couldn't be terribly comfortable. The squishing noise of his penetrating digits was unsettling enough; yet to Carter's ears, somewhat arousing. He was developing a taste for this quickly off the bat.

In fact; if he didn't get inside Jayden, soon, he knew he was going to _burst…_

Carefully, almost unwillingly, he pulled his fingers out. He didn't care to look, but wiped whatever residue he might have coated them onto the sheets, and took a whole few seconds to steel himself for the massive plunge he was about to take. He reached for the lube he so carelessly tossed on the bed, listening all the while to the shaky, quickening breath of Norman below him. Drizzling said lube on his cock; he used his hand to equally distribute it as much as he could, focusing on the head especially.

Taking his shaft in hand, he guided it between the legs of the partially willing participant. The head of his organ pressed against this opening, and he felt a wave of arousal hit him; just enough to cause a slight spurt of pre-cum jetting against his anus. The sight of the younger man's orifice recoiling and flexing in response made him practically cum right there, but instead he pressed it in; hearing Norman gasp and feeling him jolt, solidifying the righteousness of his decision.

Pressing in was difficult – he didn't want to hurt the man that had been forced into slavery and taught fellatio by cheap whores with chains behind his back; malnourished, frightened, all while the world was recovering from near death. Here he was…fucking him in the ass.

Hurting him was a given, however, but he didn't want to make him bleed, or even scream. He watched Norman's face as he looked immensely uncomfortable and shamed as he continued to push, being met with extreme resistance all the way. Desperately, he wanted to stop, the exertion on his end and strain on his partner's enough to want to make him take a break. Yet he knew it was easier to get this over and done with before he took a breather. Once the head was in, it would be better for them both.

He could feel the obvious 'pop' of his head becoming engulfed inside the man's anatomy. Taking a second to breathe, he felt Norman pant and labor beneath him as he grew used to the pain and uncomfortable situation of having another man's organ inside him. Carter himself was holding himself up above the man by his arms, now nearly at level with his face and he caught a fleeting second to look at his expression – a mixture of pain yet still-evident anticipation. He watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, locking eyes as Norman looked away, whining deep in his throat.

Carter practically felt as though if he didn't have a body behind him, he'd get sucked into the younger man entirely, a sleeve of total, absolute crushing heat and muscle. He pushed in a little more before sliding back to the head, then pushed in again, waiting for Norman to loosen up on each thrust before he went back in. The sloppy, gooey lube aiding in the gradual sinking of his member into the mass of muscle. He felt like a well-lubricated piston, and soon his body was doing it on its own, quite alike to instinct He heard Norman pant and make pained groans, sounding more feminine than masculine and not minding one bit. Carter could feel him attempting to loosen up, and was grateful for it. There was the rather disconcerting sound of the KY squelching as he pushed in little by little; oddly it rang as nearly erotic in context.

Blake shook all over in what had to be an overload of bliss. Norman Jayden had to be the tightest fuck he'd had and after he began to finally loosen up the man by slowly pushing into him he felt him become receptive at long last. Legs brushed up against his waist, and he looked down to find shaky eyes meet with his own, even if fleeting, as they looked away. On his face, a sex-flush akin to absolute enthrallment covered him from head to toe. Norman angled himself as Carter did, and the older man put his hands on his hips as he briefly sat up, locking eyes briefly as they scuttled about.

"Wait-" Norman huffed, face still painfully sweaty and red.

"What-no, this way-" Carter interrupted, grabbing his hips to angle deeper.

"No- stop fah a minute- uh! Ha'aaaahh! Right there-!"

Carter felt everything loosen, his world brighten. His bliss, _perfect_, absolutely made for him. He pushed entirely into Norman with little effort, hearing him make little "ahhh ahhh" noises that made him literally pant and sing with satisfaction.

He finally felt comfortable thrusting, slow at first as he held Norman's hips steady and gradually lowered him onto the well-used bed. There was a satisfactory series of squeaks from the springs and headboard that corresponded to his rhythmical pumps, reminding him of the best fucks he'd ever had. It brought with him a sense of comfort, or normalcy. Hell, maybe even better.

It wasn't anything he thought it was – it didn't smell, it wasn't gross.

He wasn't disgusted with another male's anatomy, just fascinated and nearly in a state of admiration. Carter didn't, in fact, feel like he was doing anything unnatural or depraved- or even frowned upon. In fact, all the messages his body were sending him was telling him it was just what the doctor had ordered.

Norman's face lay to its side, positively flushed with red from what the older male had assumed was a combination of embarrassment and satisfaction. He had hoped it was satisfying, anyway- if not, Norman sure what putting on a convincing act. His body was willing and pliable, bringing and pulling his organ in with every thrust he himself dealt out, with no attempt to push him out. His legs brushed against his buttocks as he toyed with the concept of moving his legs around him, no doubt too nervous or unwilling to deal out that level of intimacy.

His pushes were smooth and unhindered by all the lube, making the experience pleasant for both parties. The cop lavished in the sensation of the muscles closing around him with every push back and forth, how his pleasure would increase with every stroke of his cock into his constricting walls. The power that flowed through him intensified at the action of dominating the once up-start, condescending young male. He was taking his virginity from him nearly by force, with his permission of course, all at once.

Again he felt those legs attempt to do more, nearly jerk in frustration from not being able to be around him and he sat back, huffing as beads of perspiration fell from his nose and forehead; locking eyes with the emaciated man as his firm gaze reassured the frightened one below that he had done nothing wrong.

Blake's masculine hands reached back and grabbed Norman's thin ankles, crossing them behind him as best he could as he scooted forward, causing Norman to make a discomforting noise at being pushed into so roughly but took the hint, closing those legs tighter and looking away in shame.

"It's alright, Norm." He tried to put as gently as he could. "It's alright…"

They became one tightly-packed and woven arched form, where one wouldn't be able to tell at first glance if it was, in fact, a slave and his owner. With every fast and hard thrust perpetrated from the top, the bottom met with a surprising fervor even Carter was surprised at. Breaths intertwined as foreheads met, hot and humid as he leaned in and slobbered on his neck- huffed and then sat back up, feeling his climax approaching and practically felt like an animal at the door of a cage; ready to be set loose.

He told himself not to stop thrusting, not to let it come to him as he felt the climbing of heat and warmth mount in his abdomen. It was tempting, as he didn't want to cum this fast. In a startling display of selflessness, he wanted to make sure he was still hard so that Norman could reach climax as well. It gave him a great sense of pride to see woman curl her toes in front of him in bed. Despite being a man, this time was no different.

Below him, he felt then looked, awkwardly bowing his neck, to see the brunette jerking himself off as he was fucked. Cock strained and wet as he pumped it, head back and mouth mumbling words he couldn't decipher as his closed eyes gave his face a dream-like quality.

The joy of satisfying his 'partner' was enough – his thrusts changed rhythm, diving as deep as he could into Norman's warm body as he pulled out only a little before ramming back in. He heard the man beneath him make some high-pitched reaction noises of desperation, like he was being choked to death and screaming for mercy. The raven-haired Antichrist would do no such thing, a beast before the war; a demon after it.

He held onto the former profiler as he raised his hips from the bed and planted into him. Norman's mouth slacked in surprise as he panted silently, making that choked-off sound again. His voice was mostly silent, however, unable to find the voice to explain the feel of his prostate swelling and exploding in fulfillment.

"Norman! Ah! Hah! Ah fuck…!"

Hips slamming into his, he could feel his body grind into the bones present. There was a euphoria that shouldn't have existed; not for this man, anyway. Someone he swore he hated, couldn't stand… Here he was, inside him, about as deep as he could be at this stage…With his vision spotting in and out, dizzy, muscles tensing again and again in rhythmic surges across his abs, pelvis, and even his toes. He hadn't come like this in a long time. Instead of frightening him, the thought was simply…encouraging.

Carter had to _keep_ Norman, after all…

Moments later, he could feel his partner cum as well. He was quite familiar with the sensation of woman clamping him again and again as their body's muscles clenched; and by all means the feeling was quite similar. However the feeling of being on the other end of a male orgasm, one quite as comparable and far more visible, was like an experience that would stick with him to this day. The colon was full of powerful muscles that clenched him nearly painfully and possessively, all while Norman's cock flat-out spasmed and shot much like his own had, and it was that stroke of familiarity that made him appreciate the moment all the more.

"Ah _Christ_!" Norman huffed; his hand milking his cock of its final drops.

Carter felt a resurgence of the lingering aspects of his orgasm as he watched Norman's slide down his cock and reach the tip, pushing with it a few drops as they slid own the shaft and landed with the others on his smooth, pale stomach.

There was the inevitable awkward silence to end them all as the two lay there – one inside the other, bodies connected as one as they came down from the high of copulation. Carter felt the heat radiating inside the younger man still, how it held his organ dear within him; and he found it difficult to leave so soon. He'd lasted longer before, sure; and to be honest he wasn't sure why he didn't find it difficult to become quite used to and in fact excited about sleeping with a man… but it wasn't just a _man. _It was Norman fucking Jayden, a face from the past with the uptight body to match…whimpering in his throat below him, eyes closed and chest heaving as his own cum lay splatted across and over his navel, all the while he could feel said body constricting around him in intervals, orgasm finishing itself out.

He pulled out; the sloppy, unpleasant sensation evident as he watched Norman's face contort in pain as the head of his organ 'popped' out unpleasantly; it was all lube and thankfully no waste came with it. He supposed that was one advantage to being starved. Despite being drained completely by the intercourse, Carter rushed to get the bundle of nicely-scented napkins sitting on the nearby nightstand, cleaning the excess all the while Norman carried a pained and ashamed look across his face, almost as though he was about to cry.

There was a certain pride that came from watching his ejaculate struggle to stay inside the other man's orifice, a sight he would have once considered repulsive and private he now saw as a badge of honor. He could never clean all of it because tomorrow, at the crack of dawn, there would be someone here to check on them both, to make sure their contractual obligations were fulfilled. It made him physically fucking ill.

A small 'thank you…' fluttered from Norman's mouth, so low it was obviously not meant to be really heard. Perhaps a fleeting thought of Jayden in order to clean his conscious, but not quite 'there' enough to want it to be actually picked up.

He couldn't quite squeak out a return comment, whether it was 'you're welcome' or something more comforting, instead he flicked the napkin into a nearby trashcan, then found himself laying back on the bed, starting up at the ceiling with his eyes starting to drift shut on their own, his mind busy with the day's events, but not quite enough to keep his utterly sex-spent body awake. He only slumbered for a short time; however, before a wide-eyed Norman Jayden prodded his sleeping form, his face moist with tears and eyes red.

The former cop was going to ask what was wrong; before he heard a garble of words he never did find out, and then a shivering man collapsed in his arms. He'd never forget his response, which was to enclose those arms and hold him tight to his chest. That soft brown head of hair felt wonderful on his bare torso, his shaking form craving to be comforted by the more dominant form he had always embodied, even if the man on his chest right now had at one time challenged it and almost won.

He remembered staring at the ceiling – the few parts of the fancy hotel that were not completely remodeled. There were cracks in the stucco, cobwebs in the corners. Since 'the end' came, places like this were more like cover-ups than the real thing; paint hastily slapped on, structures improvised with no real regulation in place. He hated to say he was a part of the problem by now paying money for a slave, though in his mind the end in this instance had certainly justified the means.

Carter wanted to tell Jayden he was free; that he no longer had to be considered property of another. Yet he knew it was a partial lie. On him, Norman had his name tattooed on his left shoulder, plain for all to see. Even if one day it were to fade or be covered up, the chip inside him would betray his status to any who checked. At least, Carter reasoned, he could never be bartered or traded like property. Slave networks would put a price on his head for reselling merchandise.

Instead, he found himself gently raking his fingers through the younger man's scalp; lovingly, with the most real of affections, an apology in his own right. He would never make the promise to Norman that he would never let him become a malnourished, beaten plaything like so many slaves had become. Especially males, it would seem. Though somehow, he had assumed Norman had always known. Perhaps it was the way he stroked his scalp that night-feeling the younger man float away into a peaceful slumber underneath his protective arms.

What he could recall for the rest of that night was how comatose his sleep was; his sexually satisfied body dead to the whole destroyed world as the similarly famished man slept on top of him. It was the morning, instead, that ended up being quite memorable for him, in the most unpleasant of ways.

There was a knock; it woke Carter in what he had to assume was the middle of a furious knocking session. Just at the point where the person was long since one being nice. He startled awake, heard shouting, then the door was forcibly unlocked, and he couldn't help but feel a flutter of fear, but not for him.

Norman awoke quickly as he tried to crawl back from them all, off of Carter, whom launched himself to cover the man he had claimed last night. He couldn't help it; he felt an urge to protect whom he'd just copulated with, no matter how...questionable the circumstances. Four large men barged in, and for a split second he thought he was being robbed. Then he saw the fourth enter, with gloves and a toolbox in his hand.

Before he could react much more, he was held down. Each of his arms were encircled as the muscular brutes, twice his size, held him down. But they weren't gunning for him – another one of the intruders forced Norman back up on the bed, while the other one with the box came up rather unceremoniously, and spread his legs.

Carter closed his eyes and looked away, screaming obscenities all the way. It didn't matter, though. He could hear the 'check' that was supposedly going on. The man wasn't gentle like Carter was last night, and he heard Norman react in a way that made him squirm and struggle in anger.

Finally opening his eyes, he found a sample being put into a bag, rather like the evidence team he was used to seeing at a crime scene all those months ago. Then from the box came a strange tool that looked horrifying in its own way; a large plier-like device that looked like a massive hole-punch. His eyes were wide as he watched how carefree and nonchalant the man looked as he swiftly brought the tool between Norman's legs, and he waited in horror as Norman went breathless and a swift 'chur-chunk' noise resulted in a harsh yelp from its captive.

There were a few words as they left; releasing both of them as they walked out, joking and laughing as they left the room, closing and locking it behind them. There were a few words uttered – something like, "Thanks you for your business;" and "Results will be complete in two hours. Checkout's at five."

He was left hopelessly shocked; no doubt so was his 'partner in crime' next to him. Carter had seen some shit in his life but somehow he became too terrified to look. What in god's name had they done to him? After what seemed like an eternity, he looked over to find him with his hands over his eyes, breath hurried as his body jerked in response to what had to be some sort of horrific and sudden, pain.

Eyes traveling down, he eventually gathered the courage to see what exactly had been done to that particular sacred area. Something that resembled a tag dangling from a rather large ring punctured right at the top side of his shaft, directly above his glans. It was smooth and a few inches in length, looking to be easy to clean and perhaps possible for said slave to engage in topping another. The thought terrified him; if he was ever on the receiving end of something like that (which the concept alone was off-putting enough) he'd think twice, but he supposed if it was one thing sex-traders were good at…it was making sure the deed could be done.

Despite everything screaming at him to not look closer curiosity got the best of him. He leaned down and squinted in the dark room; making out the same numbers tattooed on his shoulder, and his name as well, along the dangling tag. They were making sure his purchase didn't stray far. There looked to be no easy way to remove this piercing – going directly through the shaft and capped together by force – tagging him permanently like a dog. At least a dog could get its fucking collar off…

Speechless, he looked up to see Norman silently crying. He couldn't bring himself to comfort the man. Instead he rolled over and felt a couple tears slip from his eyes. He wished back to when he lived a hectic but decent life. To when the man next to him was far, far away, a pain in his ass but still a free human being, in the least.

Instead he fell asleep for what had to be a few more hours; waking to another knock. Once again he shivered from nerves with a hint of anger, but this time the knock itself was far less violent. A note was slid under the door, accompanied by footsteps making their way back down the hallway.

Throwing back the sheets, he gingerly moved towards the letter; reading the first few sentences with a small caution, knowing full well the results would be positive. It didn't mean he wasn't concerned for anything else these sickos might have up their sleeve.

**Congratulations, CARTER BLAKE on your purchase and successful consummation of a top-tier NORTHCENTRAL TRADING POST #112 adult companion. We are pleased to find the deal was appropriately dealt out with according to clause #03 of our contractual agreement. The name of your companion was previously JAYDEN, NORMAN, though it is always the owner's choice if this is to be changed or not. Please notify the front office for record changes to our database.**

**The fees are currently PAID IN FULL for a lifetime of management. If your companion escapes or is lost you are ordered to report to a nearby trading post and contact THE NETWORK. If you do not contact THE NETWORK to claim your property, your companion is to be euthanized or kept as our personal property to be used as we see fit.**

**As of now, JAYDEN, NORMAN is free of sexually transmitted disease. As a top-tier purchase, he has been inoculated with the following:**

**RABIES**

**ANNUAL FLU- 2012**

**SWINE FLU – 2012**

**PNEUMONIA  
><strong>

**CHICKENPOX/MEASLES**

**HEPATITIS B**

**WHOOPING COUGH**

**SMALLPOX**

**MENINGITIS  
><strong>

**TETNUOUS  
><strong>

**We urge you to keep up with your companion's vaccines.**

**Your companion is currently IDed by CHIP, TATTOO, and TAG. So that you may rest easy your property shall not be RESOLD, STOLEN, or LOST. Contact the front office for GPS tracking at an additional charge. We also have a new low-cost lifetime insurance policy for those that go through companions at a faster rate for complete satisfaction. Multiple companion discounts are always available!**

**THANK YOU AND ENJOY YOUR PURCHASE!**

Well, he guessed it was official. He now owned another human being.

He thought he was going to be sick – the list of vaccines, even _rabies _for fuck's sake – reminded of buying a fucking _dog. _Of course, there had actually been a rabies epidemic in the new world, gone unmanaged in animal populations without government control but it didn't make him feel particularly better. Carter had to assume this was where a lot of the hospital products he'd seen looted went to; keeping a supply of healthy studs for wealthy men to fuck without fear of illness. All while the public scrounged for money to pay for a simple bottle of aspirin. It was just like in the old days; only the wealthy or extremely derelict (in this case, slaves) were privy to any sort of assistance.

_Companions_… the 'politically correct' term used. It was a more appetizing turn of phrase for those that may have been turned off by the idea of owning a _slave. _In their mind, the life of a slave was simple and elegant. They were the healthiest, most prized, well taken care of; much like a pet. Problem was even pets had more rights than human beings owned by another. In the hands of a slave owner, words, actions, thoughts, and dreams were all crushed down in fear of retaliation. They had to have sex whenever it was asked of them, and could be beat or even killed without a law system to protect them, be they strong or weak. After all, they were _property._

Yet most weren't even concerned with the wording. They were slaves; pure and simple. After the veneer was lifted of the contracts and the false output of compassion and support, it was as black-and-white as a cattle auction, complete with meat on display.

More than ever, he was regretting not reading that contract.

Getting up, his first thought was to check on Norman.

He fell asleep on his back; his face was oddly placid despite the storm of emotions that must have been going on inside his head. He waited for him to wake up; not having the heart to disturb the first non-slave slumber he must have had in months. Sure, he was being watched this time as well, but by a man with nothing to gain besides companionship.

When he did, he looked around quickly, his face finding relief when he spied Carter watching him. After which a blush of shame colored his cheeks as he looked down between his legs without spreading them. No doubt it was still sore. In his position, sitting on the bed, Blake looked away, then finally stood up.

"I'm going to… uh, take a shower." Carter stated, getting up as he was grateful to clear the awkward air.

That was when he heard Norman slowly get off the bed, and he didn't think much of it until he followed him into the bathroom behind him. Turning around, he watched Norman's face turn downcast as he began to climb into the shower stall behind him.

"Whoa! Jayden, I meant by myself!"

Then he stopped when he witnessed the absolute helplessness in Norman's eyes, with it a fear that was literally shaking him to the bone. Those light greyish-blue eyes were amplified in size by his near-emaciated body.

"Don't leave me alone…"

His voice shook, sounding like a frightened child; it matched his body as it moved in tremors. Before him stood a broken man; body and soul. Years ago, he would have relished it; would have loved nothing more than to see Norman Jayden, FBI golden boy, knocked off his high horse.

Now? He fought to cradle him like a lost little boy. To tell him that he, as well, was a shell of his former self. Everyone that survived The End with their humanity intact was. You either lived on as a broken man, or spend the rest of your life picking up the pieces. He didn't have time to play Humpty fucking Dumpty. Not for himself, anyway.

But Norman? Perhaps…he needed a hand.

"Yeah… yeah, okay…" He sighed, looking down as he felt a flood of embarrassment overcome him. They were doing their best to avert their eyes from one another's upright naked form.

They showered together, but kept to opposite sides of the small shower stall. Norman especially seemed overjoyed and brought to life by the steamy water overcoming him. It was a miracle to the younger man every time he was greeted by the luxury of running water. From what Carter would later learn, a slave's quarters were equated to a horse's stall. Complete with hay and drinking pail.

Leaving promptly after that, they dressed and left without leaving a tip to the sleazy shitheads he was sure other, far less savory people found helpful. He made sure Norman stayed close; for his own good. If he ended up with anybody else, he'd eventually be sold into prostitution or outright shot. That was, if he wasn't simply raped and killed by the passing criminal.

He found an eatery, and used the rest of his small fortune to treat them to a meal of kings. Norman was silent but ecstatic as he chowed down on mounds of relatively safe bowls of rice, chicken, and noodles – anything the pre-war and some post-war world had to offer. He smirked at the memory, how innocent the whole action was. He never would have guessed it would have ended up like this.

Norman had recovered rather quickly from his whole two months in captivity. Not to mention that night where they were forced to copulate; though they both knew it wasn't the action so much as the situation. Carter would be lying if he said he'd always wanted to _fuck_ the brunette, but when it actually came to pass, it felt more right than most of the things he'd accomplished post-war.

At first he was shy and reclusive. They bought a couple of horses and headed south, and had to be taught exactly how to ride one of the beasts. It wasn't exactly easy; Norman was stubborn just like the day they met. Yet he got a kick out of seeing the young man take to the process and bond with the equestrian members of their team, ready to trust another large animal before he made the jump to mankind.

Eventually the horse became ill, and sad to say they ended up shooting it one Sunday afternoon. They took to riding one horse together, with Norman's hands wrapped around his waist, his face on his shoulder. It didn't take long for the bonding to begin once again, and for feelings for one another to be revived.

A far more pleasant 'first time' was the night they stopped and made a fire in a relatively bare patch of wasteland. They laid out the sleeping bags and tied up their horse and sat in quiet as they ate some old pre-war rations consisting of crackers and cheese. They had little in terms of conversation, as any time Carter tried to bring up the slavery part of Norman's life he clammed up for the most part.

There must have been an air between them, and Carter made a move that was thankfully reciprocated. He could remember Norman tensing, yet later relaxing underneath him. They made love near the fire, in total nakedness in the wasteland and under the numerous stars, not a single care given. They slept intertwined with one another in a single sleeping bag; awoken by the mid-morning sun.

Since then, he had opened up a great deal. He seemed more like his old self, even smiling at times. It was quite rewarding to see the man he rescued from the demented shackles of sex slavery make such strides. He truly was his companion now, but by choice, by comradery and friendship; blood brothers in arms that just so happened to also enjoy one another's bodies for more than just the typical utilitarian purposes.

Long conversations turned to pre-war chatter. Carter still maintained he was in his right when it came to beating Ethan Mars. Norman chastised him, saying he had made a mockery of the law by his reckless behavior. It was like a look back into the past, and he felt a passion to argue his point once more. Despite the total dissolution of the society that made such things pointless. They both ended with what seemed like the unanimous understanding of this, with a brooding silence.

"I wonder if Ethan survived…" He could recall Norman asking.

"Or Shaun…" Was his reply, awkward, yet sullen. All their hard work, now fruitless in everyone's eyes.

They never really discussed that particular subject again. It was a rather disheartening reminder of days gone by, of the futility of the situation both then and now. How pointless their noble efforts have been. How it had all turned to ashes.

* * *

><p>Carter walked out into the sun and took a deep breath, surveying the damaged, yet recovering landscape. They had lost their horse ages ago, but were seeking another steed to make travel easier. Cars were a rare find, even rarer to acquire gas. It seemed to be the first resource to be scavenged. Animal power, the old standby, proved to be timeless.<p>

Instead they moved towards the waterfall – both knew what was going to happen when they got there. They wouldn't just bathe; it was too good of an opportunity to be exposed to one another. They would be vulnerable, sure, but it would be absolutely worth it. Sometimes he wished they had another person along with them to keep watch while they did things like this; other times, he appreciated the privacy.

They smiled and joked as they made the small climb down towards the stream. Norman still had difficulty walking, nearly taking pride in wrecking his poor traveling companion's body in a throe of passion. He'd be okay soon enough, however. Even if what they were about to do would most likely add to the problem; it wasn't like the Bostonian to turn down the opportunity to have his body fully plundered.

Especially in times like these; where any turn can be the last.

He removed his tattered jacket, folding it decently and putting it on a nearby rock. Watching Jayden do the same, he coyly smiled as his shoulder and barcode tattoo revealed itself. Though his past was marred, there was something rather satisfying about having a mark on the younger man as such. Although a constant reminder of his past predicament, Carter instead replaced such feelings with possessiveness quite representative of him. Norman was his alright – just not in a slave-master sort of relationship one bit.

It was when the jacket slipped off his form completely when he saw a strange bubbling on his shoulder- one he could have sworn wasn't there before. It was nearly the diameter of a baseball, and irregular in shape. He immediately stopped what he was doing and walked over, Norman laughed and turned his head to kiss him, thinking the action was one of lust and not concern.

"Cartuh! Come on, it's cold out here! At least thuh watah's warm already…"

Turning his sleek, toned body around, he took some long, lean strides with that body Carter had come to admire, and tested the water with his foot. Carter himself had stood still like a statue, face nearly catatonic. Norman, it seemed, was clueless. More focused on warming up in the oddly pleasant water. Slowly, with shaking hands, he went to take off his pants, doing so as delicately as a Parkinson's victim may have, fingers struggling to work the whole way.

Already swimming in the shallow pool already, Norman swam over to the foot-testing cop and seemed oddly oblivious of his suddenly-disturbed Carter Blake. He splashed at him with a laugh, only to receive a bemused smile in response. No curse, no warning or retaliation; just a flinch.

"Somethin' wrong, Cartuh?"

His question was genuine, finally guessing that the former lieutenant wasn't just tired or 'in one of his moods', but actually looking to be struggling with something internally. Instead the older man just gave a smirk, embracing the other man as they locked lips once more. Arms encircling and bodies together as he felt his own heart beat far too quickly against the other's chest.

"Just think'n what I'd do… if I lost yah."

He could hear Norman laugh; because after all, what a ridiculous concept.

"What, like celebrate? Y'ah worry too much…"

Instead of a reply, he kissed his shoulder, knees feeling rubbery and about ready to give out- heart skipping a beat as everything in his life felt ready to go to ashes right along with everything else.


End file.
